


Man Child

by justmarcialima



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (2015)
Genre: Caring Illya, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Illya is a cinnamon roll, Illya is a russian mother hen, Ilya loves Napoleon too, M/M, Motherhen!Illya, Napoleon Loves Illya, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, gentle Illya, napoleon is a brat, whiny!Napoleon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 07:32:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5906455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmarcialima/pseuds/justmarcialima
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon is sick. Illya is a caring russian mother hen. Napoleon finds it endearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Man Child

**Author's Note:**

> Napoleon was supposed to be more whiny and brat in this but things took a turn.

It was just another normal day inside U.N.C.L.E. headquarters. Gaby was out in a solo mission in God knows where (probably somewhere warm like Israel, Illya thought). They barely talked to her when they arrived from China and since then, they were caught writing reports from the mission on their respective desks. 

Illya was almost done with his and glancing above his stack of papers he realized Napoleon wasn’t even close to finishing. Illya only rolled his eyes and continued writing, until he was totally caught off guard by a loud sneeze. Looking up he saw Napoleon blowing his nose in a handkerchief, his nose was red and his face was flushed. The Russian scrunched his forehead in thought. 

\- Are you okay, cowboy? – He asked. 

\- I’m fine, Peril. – His voice sounded funny. 

\- You don’t look fine to me. – Illya crossed his arms and leaned in his chair. – You look sick. 

\- I’m not sick! – He exclaimed. – It’s just allergies. Napoleon Solo never gets sick. 

\- Yeah, sure. – Illya said sarcastically. – When sane, Napoleon Solo doesn’t speak in third person about himself either. – He raised a brow at his partner. – Face it, cowboy, you have the flu or something. 

\- I don’t have anything! – He said stubbornly. – Stop pestering me! 

\- Fine. – Illya rolled his eyes and picked up his pen again. – Just… Don’t pass me any germs from your American sick self. 

Napoleon only mumbled under his breath that he wasn’t sick. Illya rolled his eyes again and resumed his work

A few moments passed. It could have been minutes or hours, Illya wasn’t sure, he only knew his stack of papers had been severely shorter than was before. Waverly entered the room, his face stuck into a folder, muttering something about a mission. Kuryakin perked up at the chance to go into the field and Napoleon only raised his head as Alexander looked at them. 

\- Ok, I have a mission for you two in Rome and… - He stopped himself as he looked at Napoleon’s face. – Oh my God, Solo! You look horrible!  
Illya glanced at Napoleon again and almost gasped. Solo was all flushed his always neatly combed hair was disheveled and his nose was looking raw from scrubbing. He looked a mess. 

\- I’m fine. – His voice was not fine! It sounded muffled, hoarse and nasal. Illya wondered how he could have gotten worse in the amount of time that passed. He looked at the clock and saw it was seven PM, only a couple of hours had passed but flu was always worse at night for some reason. – What is the mission?

\- Oh, you’re going home not to Rome. – Then he laughed. – That rhymed. – Alexander got serious again. – No Rome for you, mister. – Then he looked at Illya that was currently looking at Napoleon with a concerned expression. Alexander sighed. – You’re staying with him, huh? 

\- Da. 

\- I don’t’ need a babysitter! 

Both those answers were said at the same time. A resigned one by Illya and an indignant one by Napoleon. 

\- Good. – Alexander smiled clearly ignoring Napoleon’s answer. – I’ll designate the mission for another agent. Get better, Solo! – With that he was off, leaving the both alone again. 

Illya closed his last folder and got up, stretching his muscles and looking at his partner. 

\- I’ll get you home, cowboy. – He said. 

Napoleon scowled at him. 

\- I can go by myself and I certainly don’t need you. Besides, I need to finish these. – He pointed at his pile of reports. 

\- You heard Waverly. – Illya crossed his arms, getting irritated with the stubborn man. – The files will be still here when you get back. 

\- I’m not going home with you. – Napoleon crossed his arms. Illya huffed and face palmed, musing on the idea of either throwing Solo on his shoulder and carrying him or putting him over his knee to spank him. He didn’t know what to do with the responsive throb that those options had on his lower region. He decided bargain instead. 

\- What if I write half of your reports when we get back? 

Solo raised an eyebrow. 

\- Seriously? 

\- Yes. – Illya rolled his eyes. – It isn’t as if I never did this to you before. 

\- True. – Napoleon considered and nodded rising to his feet. – We have a solid deal then. 

Illya just rolled his eyes again and stalked towards the exit with Napoleon staggering behind him. 

Napoleon’s flat was much simpler than Illya imagined. He had expected a sumptuous pent house but was pleased to find a nicely stylized mild expensive place. Of course it was much better than Illya’s own apartment and the (probably stolen) art placed on the walls could cost a fortune but he was glad nonetheless. 

\- I’ll go take a shower. – Napoleon said while throwing his keys into the coffee table in his living room. – Are you going to help me? – His flirty tone was ruined because of the nasty coughing fit he got after saying it. 

\- I think you’re good enough to drop your pants without my help. – Illya rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth were up turned in amusement.

\- Your loss. – He shrugged and dragged himself to get to the bathroom. 

Illya sighed and shed his coat, folding his sleeves and baring his forearms. Musing on what to do he grabbed the phone and went to the kitchen, hearing the shower starting to run. Content with his role for the evening he started running through Napoleon’s cabinets and fridge. His satisfaction was about the change sooner or later. 

A couple minutes later Illya heard the shower being turned off. He waited a few more minutes to see Napoleon trailing into the kitchen wearing navy blue pajamas and thick grey socks. His skin was still flushed, probably from the hot shower and his lips were cracked. Illya made a mental note to wait a little to check his temperature. 

\- I called the drugstore and they’re sending cold medicines over here. – He turned around to stir the pan. 

\- What are you making? – Napoleon asked with a rough voice. It could have been sexy if it didn’t sound so miserable. 

\- Chicken soup. – He raised the spoon and tasted a bit. – Spicy chicken soup. 

He turned the stove off and turned to look at Napoleon. Solo was looking him up and down, stopping at the apron on Illya’s waist, with a funny look. Truth was that Napoleon was looking at Illya like he had grown another head. 

\- What? – Illya crossed his arms defensively. 

\- Nothing. – Napoleon smirked. He was going to tease Illya but someone knocked on the door. 

\- Go lay down. I’ll bring the food and the medicine. – With that order he was off to answer the door and Napoleon rolled his eyes, but did what he said. He was starting to get cold out here, anyways. He entered his room and settled under the covers. He felt horrible. His whole body was hurting, his nose was constantly stuffed with meant a nasty headache. He felt weak and gross, even if he had just taken a shower. His throat was on fire and he felt a foul taste of pus on his mouth. 

Illya entered the room a few moments later, carrying a jaw of water, a cup, a white bag with what he presumed were the medicines and a bowl with the soup. Napoleon didn’t even know how he managed to hold on to all those things at the same time but he didn’t care. Illya was always surprising him one way or another. He placed all of it on the side table and went into Napoleon’s bathroom. 

\- Where do you keep your medical kit? – He yelled, presumably going through Napoleon’s stuff. 

\- The last cabinet beneath the sink. – Napoleon said. 

Illya opened the cabinet and grabbed the medical kit, rolling his eyes because it got stuck between mounts of packages of condoms and lube. ‘Cause of course it would. This was Napoleon Solo after all. He closed the cabinet and returned to the bedroom, dropping the kit on the bed and manhandling Napoleon’s willing body into a sitting position. Illya even fluffed his pillows for him! Napoleon had no idea how to deal with this caring side of his otherwise brooding partner. 

Kuryakin dragged the covers out of Napoleon’s body and opened the medical kit. 

\- I’m cold, Illya! – Napoleon all but whined. – What are you doing? – He frowned as he felt Illya’s big hand in his forehead. 

\- Feeling if you have a fever. – He scrunched up his nose. – You’re very warm. 

\- That’s because I’m hot. – He winked and smirked while Illya rolled his eyes. 

\- Just… Open your mouth. – He grabbed the thermometer and all but shoved it inside Napoleon’s mouth. – Of course you only shut up with something on your mouth. – Solo raised an eyebrow and Illya got red. – You know what I mean. 

They waited a few awkward moments staring into each other’s eyes until Illya took the thermometer out of Napoleon’s mouth. He looked at it but frowned in confusion. 

\- Fucking Americans and their fucking Fahrenheit. – He mumbled. – Catch up with the rest of the world in Celsius. 

\- Excuse me but that’s my country you’re talking about. – Napoleon said but he was smiling. 

\- Shut up I need silence to convert this in my head. – He shushed his partner. Napoleon waited until he saw Illya’s blue eyes widen. 

\- What? – He asked concerned. 

\- You have a fever. A high one. 39 degrees to be exact. One more and you could start convulsing we need to lower this number. – He put away the thermometer and drew away the covers. – Sorry cowboy, no more covers for you. 

Napoleon scowled. 

\- Oh I’m sorry Doctor Kuryakin, whatever you say doctor. – He said sarcastically. 

\- You’re really a pain in the ass when you’re sick, you know that? – Kuryakin poured him water and grabbed the exact medication that he needed to give him in that moment, handling all to Napoleon’s hand. 

\- Only when I’m sick? – He swallowed the medication with the water and winced at the pain in his throat. 

\- All the time, really. But you’re worse when you’re sick. – He then proceeded to grab the empty cup of water from Solo’s hand and put the bowl of food in it in instead. – Eat. This will clear your sinus and make you sleep better. 

Napoleon rolled his eyes but put a full spoon on his mouth, widening his eyes soon after. 

\- This is good. I mean it’s spicy as hell but it’s good. I didn’t know you could cook. 

Illya smirked. 

\- I still do have a few secrets, cowboy. 

\- Clearly. – Napoleon smile was cut off by a fit of coughing. Illya frowned in concern. 

\- This is a wet cough. You have an infection. 

\- How do you even know this stuff?

\- Russia is cold. – He smiled. – Flu is something common. Everywhere, really actually. 

Napoleon said squinting. 

\- There’s something you’re not telling me. 

Illya rolled his eyes at him. If felt like it was his normal estate now days. 

\- When I was a child I spent a lot of time alone because my parents were always busy. I picked up some stuff along the way. – The blonde shrugged. – Now eat. 

Napoleon did just that while he gave Illya a sympathetic look. They stayed silent after that. When Napoleon finished, Illya got his bowl and got up to dispose it in the kitchen. He came back with a cold cloth that he carefully put on Napoleon’s forehead to lower his temperature. 

\- You’re such a Russian mother hen. – Napoleon said smiling. – I can totally see you barefoot and cooking with a kid attached to your hip. 

\- Shut up, Napoleon. – He said in a fond tone. 

\- I’m serious. You would be a terrific mother, Illya. – He laughed and then winced because of his throat. 

\- I’ll take that as a compliment. – The Russian smiled. 

\- It is one. – Napoleon looked fondly at his partner. 

\- How are you feeling? – Illya sat down next to him on the bed. 

Napoleon groaned annoyed. 

\- Awful. – He whined. – My throat and head hurts. I feel dizzy, my nose is running nonstop because of your soup and I hurt all over. I feel weak and gross. – He ran a hand through his hair. – My hair is entirely wet from sweat. 

\- If you’re sweating that means your fever is finally giving it some rest. – He grabbed the thermometer again and put on Napoleon’s mouth. The time was up a few minutes later and when he looked at it his fever had gone down 2 degrees. Illya left out a relieved sigh. – We’re out of the woods with your fever. 

He put away the thermometer and took off the already almost dry cloth out of Napoleon’s forehead and put it aside. Then he started unbuttoning Solo’s pajamas shirt. Napoleon frowned confused. 

\- You do realize that if you’re getting ready to fuck me you’ll get sick too right? – He raised an eyebrow and smirked when he saw the Russian blush beautifully. 

\- Wha- No! – Illya shook his head and grabbed a bottle of vick vaporub. – To help you breath and sleep better, Napoleon. 

\- Oh. – Napoleon was very disappointed but at the same time with a point of excitement at having Illya’s hands on his chest. The blonde resumed his work on the buttons until Napoleon’s chest was bare. Illya made a confused sound at the back of his throat. 

Napoleon had never felt insecure on his whole life but there was a first for everything. 

\- What? – He asked. 

\- I guess I never thought you would have chest hair. – He shrugged. – I never pegged you as a hairy man. 

\- You thought I did what? – He sounded equally offended and relieved. – Waxed my entire body hair?

Illya shrugged with an amused smile on his face while he opened the bottle. 

\- It was a possibility. 

\- I’m offended. – Napoleon said. Then he gave a malicious smirk. – You think about me shirtless a lot, Peril?

Illya blushed and said nothing, only applying the ointment in Napoleon’s chest. The American shuddered both from the cold of the medicine and Illya’s hands.

\- You’re pretty vain, cowboy. – Illya whispered while applying and rubbing the ointment. – Excuse me if I thought that having too much body hair would be unappealing to you. 

\- It isn’t too much! – He was offended and insecure again. – Do you think it’s too much? I mean, I trim pretty neatly everywhere and nobody ever complained…

\- I’m not complaining. – Illya interrupted him. – I think it’s nice and it suits you. – Napoleon exhaled relieved. – I can also see the appeal of it. – 

He muttered under his breath and Napoleon smiled. 

\- Thank you, Illya. 

After that both stayed silent, trying to control their matching growing erections. Napoleon was already being able to breathe better but he didn’t want Illya to stop. 

\- Why are you taking care of me, Peril? – He asked in a whisper. Illya stopped rubbing for a bit and looked the american in the eyes. – You could have been in Rome now. 

\- Against my better judgment I care about you, cowboy. – He smiled. – Besides, working alone in Rome would be boring without your annoying remarks and terrible spy work. 

Napoleon laughed and as a first didn’t ended up coughing his lungs off. He took that as a win. 

Unfortunately Illya had to eventually stop rubbing Napoleon’s chest. Neither was glad about it though. The Russian spy buttoned up Napoleon’s shirt again and went to the kitchen to fetch another cold cloth while the brunette got cozy on his bed. He entered to see Napoleon starting to doze off so he placed the cloth on his forehead and tucked him in, patting his slightly damp hair. Illya waited until Napoleon started to snore to sit on the chair facing his bed and watch him. His nose was obstructed so he had to sleep with his mouth open, hence the loud snoring sound. Illya didn’t really mind he had to stay up anyways to prevent Napoleon from stop breathing and to check on his temperature. 

He got up several times through the night, checking up on Napoleon like a mother would but soon he was defeated by exhaustion and fell asleep as the day begin to rise. 

Napoleon was woken up soon after by the clarity. He rolled down on the bed to see Illya all curled up barely fitting the chair he was sitting at. His long limbs were all croaked in odd angles. He would have multiple pains when he woke up and the caring Napoleon felt made him smile. He actually felt much better, his throat had subdued its pain slightly, his nose wasn’t feeling so stuffy anymore and his headache had cleared. Solo didn’t felt cared in that way in a long time and his heart swelled up just at the thought of it. 

He tried to leave the bed but Illya woke up as soon as he sat down. He rubbed the sleep of his eyes and yawned. 

\- Napoleon, how are you feeling today? – He asked sitting up wincing at the kinks on his neck. 

\- Much better. – He smiled. His voice sounded more like his own too. – Apparently your mothering paid off. 

\- You’re not out of the clear yet. – The blonde got up and fetched the thermometer again. He only patted his partner’s jaw and Napoleon opened his mouth. Illya didn’t remove his hand for Napoleon’s face until it was time to remove the thermometer. Neither one complained. – You don’t have a fever anymore, so that means your infection is clearing up. How’s the rest? 

Napoleon told him how he was feeling all over while Illya only nodded absentminded. He handed the american his pills and a cup of water while saying he would make them breakfast. He washed his face quickly in the bathroom and was off to the kitchen leaving Napoleon alone. The man decided to take a shower since he was all sweaty. 

When he got into the kitchen (already dressed in casual black sweat pants and a grey t shirt) he found Illya again in an apron squeezing fresh orange juice. He already had a plate full of bacon and eggs ready. 

\- I didn’t even know I had an apron. – Napoleon sat down on the table. 

\- You need to go grocery shopping. Your fridge looks like its dying. – He muttered. – More than half of it is bad.

\- I don’t stay here long enough to worry about those things. 

\- I understand. – He placed the jar of juice on the table. – You need vitamin C and electrolytes. 

\- Sit down and eat with me, Illya. – Napoleon grabbed Illya’s hand before he went away. The blonde man acquiesced. 

They both started eating in silence. 

\- Thank you. – Napoleon looked from his food to look at Illya’s face. – For everything. Making me food, taking my temperature, staying the night… Caring. 

\- It’s no problem, Napoleon. – He smiled slightly. 

\- No, really. It feels like ages since I was tended to that way, if ever. So thank you. I’m glad I’ve met you. 

\- I’m glad I didn’t kill you. – Illya teased but he was being honest. – Now eat. You need to heal fast. I don’t want to lose anymore missions because of your bad immune system. 

Napoleon rolled his eyes but started eating again. Illya’s hand crawled upon his and stayed there for the whole breakfast.


End file.
